


A Little Pain

by Ethuilriel



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Lemon, Mild Painplay, Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:00:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24561985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethuilriel/pseuds/Ethuilriel
Summary: This one-shot scene starts at the point in The Arcana where the apprentice and Julian Devorak hide from palace guards in an abandoned garden after he heals the apprentice from the vampire eel bite.In the (paid) scene in The Arcana, Julian and the Apprentice are interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the alley...but what would've happened if their flirtations weren't cut short?
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Julian Devorak/Reader, Julian Devorak/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 241





	A Little Pain

“It sounds like you’re not afraid of danger,” you say.

“Afraid of danger? Why, I live for it. Positively enchanted by danger, I am.” Doctor Julian Devorak raises a roguish eyebrow.

“So pain doesn’t scare you either?” The darkness, the garden, the look on his face...you feel bold.

“Why should it? In my line of work, you can’t be afraid of a little pain. One might say I have...”—he grins wickedly—“...intimate knowledge of it.”

Is that an invitation? You place your hand on his waist, resting lightly over the vampire eel bite.

“Oho, are we dancing? I didn’t know you could. What, er. What’s your poison? Tango? Waltz?”

You step forward, pushing him back against the crumbling garden wall. As you press harder on the wound, he bites his lip and makes a muffled sound. He gives you a desperate look.

“S-so, not the waltz, then. Pity, I’ve been known to cut a rug.”

He grips your shoulder, hard, and slides slightly down the wall. His eyes focus invitingly on your face. Keeping one hand at his waist, you raise your other hand to rest on his chest, then slide it up to the nape of his neck. You close the distance between your bodies, and he bends his face toward you. As you lean into him, he groans slightly at the increased pressure on his wound.

“Sorry,” you wince, flinching away.

“Don’t be.” He grins, gripping your waist and pulling you toward him, leaning into the pressure. His face is inches from yours. You bring your lips to his. He makes a sound in his throat and pulls you closer, your bodies touching from chest to knee. His tongue parts your lips softly, almost shyly, in contrast to his fierce grasp at your back. You raise your hand from his waist to meet the other at the nape of his neck and thread through his hair.

His mouth still on yours, he reaches for your hand and moves it back to his waist, pressing it hard against the vampire eel bite. Oh. He returns his hand to the small of your back. Tentatively, you press against the wound, eliciting a groan. You pull back from the kiss, searching his face. He arches his head back, exposing his pale throat. He looks down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, biting his lip.

“Is this...is this alright?” You glance down at your hand on his side.

“It’s ah...” His eyes flutter closed. He shudders and his voice drops half an octave. “It’s divine, my dear.”

Well. Out of the corner of your eye, you spy an ornately carved stone bench. You pull away, and his eyes snap open.

“What is it?” He quickly removes his hands from your waist, searching your face worriedly. “Is, ah, is something wrong? Did I...“

You can’t help but smile at his attentive concern. “Nothing’s wrong. Let’s just...” You step toward the bench, pulling him by the hand.

“Aha, well then, say no more my dear. It seems a more convenient, erm, geometry is in order.” He follows obediently. “What would you, ah, like me to...”

You take his waist, guiding him to sit on the bench. He leans back against the wall and watches you patiently, half a lazy smile playing across his face. You lift your skirt slightly, kneeling on the bench and arranging yourself to straddle him.

“Mm, an excellent decision on your part, may I just say—“

You silence him with your mouth. His lips part easily, his hands resting on your hips. As you settle yourself into his lap, you can feel evidence of just how much he approves of your decision pressing against you through your underclothes. Do you dare? The garden seems long deserted, but the street is just on the other side of the wall. His mouth moves to your neck and you arch back in encouragement.

“Mm, tell me what you want from me, darling,” he murmurs against your throat. Apparently you do dare, because you pull off his glove, then take his hand and guide it under your skirt. He slides his cool fingers up your thigh obligingly, navigating the fabric of your undergarments and finding the wetness that’s been building since his first wicked smile.

His fingers move in small slow circles against you, then faster as a whimper escapes your throat. You feel a finger slip inside you, his eyes watching your face intently. You lick your lips, then swear quietly as he presses against the sensitive spot at the front of your opening. He hesitates.

“Was that, uh...”

“Please don’t stop.”

Two of his fingers slide slowly in and out, thumb rubbing steadily at the apex. You rock your hips against him, encouraging a faster, deeper movement. Ever willing to follow your lead, he cooperates. His unoccupied hand slides up from your hip to fumble with the hem of your shirt, and you help him find his way to your bare waist, shivering slightly at his cool leather glove on your fevered skin. He slows his movements, then speeds up, then agonizingly slows again, keeping you deliciously off guard. Your breath catches as you feel tightness build deep within you. His patient fingers remain unrelenting as your mouth opens in a silent scream, waves rocking your body as you cling to his shoulders. When you open your eyes he’s smirking in satisfaction.

Two can play at that game. You slide your hand from his shoulder to press again at the bite by his waist. His breath catches, but you don’t let him savor it, sliding your hands further down to free the bulge in his trousers. He leans his head back and watches you with a grin that’s almost a snarl as you grasp his member, and he helps you rearrange your clothes so you can lower yourself onto him. His moan as he enters you is so loud you put a finger to his lips.

“Shhhh, the street’s right there! Someone might hear!”

“Mm, I’ll attempt to ah, rein in my expressions of delight,” he whispers into your shoulder, then traces his lips along your collarbone to your neck. “But I shall make no promises I cannot keep.”

You ride him slowly at first, savoring every muffled groan he presses against your throat as much as the feel of him inside you. Then, you lower one hand to rest lightly over the wound on his side.

“Oh,” he whimpers, “oh, yes please, please, pleeeease.”

He nips at your throat as you gradually increase the pressure on his side, his hands on your hips guiding your speed and rhythm. The sounds escaping from him bring a satisfied grin to your face. They increase in frequency, and you can tell he’s fighting to keep them quiet as he approaches his climax. His teeth dig into your neck hard as he muffles something that could’ve become a scream, pumping your hips furiously. Then the tension dissipates from his body and he collapses back against the wall, panting. He groans your name.

You slowly rise, wincing as you stretch your stiff thighs. As you both readjust your clothes, he raises a hand to your neck where he stifled his climactic cry. His face falls as he traces the mark his teeth left.

“Oh no...oh my dear, I’m terribly, terribly sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t think I was...I didn’t mean to, er, to be so...rough...”

It’s your turn to smirk. You take his hand and bring it to your lips.

“Oh, Doctor Devorak. I’m certainly not afraid of a little pain.”


End file.
